


Hunters

by spacebuck



Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Crossover, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Violence, abandoned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebuck/pseuds/spacebuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha, Bucky, and Clint are an experienced hunter team, while Steve prefers to hunt on his own. They find out the hard way that they have been tracking the same werewolf pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Thank you for your time, Sergeant." Natasha Romanoff shook hands with the older, balding man in front of her.

"No problem, Agent. If you have any further enquiries, don't hesitate to ask".

Nat smiled sweetly, and left the police station, pulling out her phone. She hit the first number on speed dial, and when it was answered, spoke quickly. "The police have no leads, as expected. Their lone witness didn't give them anything useful. Vic was running, his usual route, through the park, when he was killed. The name is Michael Ward. Pick me up? We can head to the morgue now, get that over with."

 _"Sure Nat, be there in five. Bucky is in the park now. It's still roped off - we got here pretty quick"_.

A click as her partner hung up, and she tucked her phone into the pocket of her pantsuit, tugging at the material of her jackets. She hated the damn things, but feds wore suits, so she didn't have a choice if she wanted to pass for one.

A few minutes later the faint rumbling of the old dodge challenger became audible, and soon after the cherry red beast came into view. It belonged to her partner, Clint Barton, who had gotten it out of a deal with a runaway who needed cash. At least, that's what he said. Clint always managed to find trouble. When he pulled up to the curb, there was a low whistle from one of the cops arriving at the station, looking at the car and grinning, then offering a thumbs up to her and Clint. Smiling back, she slid into the car, kicking off her heels as soon as the door was closed. "These cops are really laid back considering three people have died brutally in the past few weeks." Clint grinned at her, tugging at his tie.

"Yeah, think I want whatever they've been drinking". She slapped his hand away from his neck, laughing.

"Don't pull it, you'll ruin it. Let's go, then we're meeting Bucky soon". He nodded, and they pulled out of the car park, heading for the hospital.

 

* * *

"So the vic was completely healthy?"

"Yeah, other than the massive hole in his chest." The mortician held out the medical report, which Clint took, flicking through it.

"His heart is missing?"

"Yep, torn clean out. Bloody, and from what I can tell, he was alive when it happened. The other two were the same. Buried now, but no hearts."

Natasha lifted the sheet, screwing up her nose at the gaping hole in the victim's chest. What a way to go. At least it pointed them in the right direction. "Thank you, Doctor. We'll get out of your hair now." She smiled, and after Clint handed back the clipboard, they left. As soon as they were out of earshot, they looked at each other, and said in unison "Werewolf".

 

* * *

After picking up the third member of their troupe, James "Bucky" Barnes, they headed back to the hotel to regroup and share. Pulling her suit jacket off, Nat kicked off her heels and sprawled onto one of the beds. "So, the cops have one witness listed, a guy who saw the vic run into the park, and another guy follow, then only the second guy came out. Single entrance park, so no other way for people to come out. Witness went in and found the vic not far off the path. I have a name and address, so we should get in touch with him soon".

Clint took over, recounting the morgue visit, and their early diagnosis. "If we're right, that means it's your turn to be the bait, Bucky".

He nodded, filling in the crime scene info, which was consistent with the rest of the information. "He's not turning them, just hunting" The other hunter finished. He tugged off his gloves, throwing them onto one of the bedside tables, and stretched his hands out. The metal of the prosthetic left hand glinted dully in the fading light. "Wish this was silver, then I could just punch the bastard dead."

"Actually Buck," Clint interjected, "From the amount of killings, and the timeframe of said kills, we're looking at a pack. Three, four at least. From what I could tell, after doing a bit of snooping online, there have been three vics this time, with a similar thing happening a few years back, a few towns over. Unsolved. About six murders there."

Bucky frowned, his attention shifting to the other man. "Why didn't Fury put a hunter on it?"

"Because it was covered up, only reported in local papers. Nothing got to mainstream media. Looks like someone in power is either in the pack, or linked to it."

"Damn. Clint, you do some deep digging mate, you really do."

The blond grinned. "Right, I'm gonna get changed, this suit is makin' me itch." Clint got up, grabbed his bag, and headed for the bathroom, rubbing a hand through his hair. Nat laughed, agreeing completely. Didn't mean the suit didn't suit him though, but none of them liked wearing the things.

Once all three were dressed more comfortably, and Clint had returned from his food run, they sat around the small table, books out. The boys managed to put away four burgers between them, and Nat seemed to be the only somewhat healthy one, opting for a wrap instead. "So who wants to go talk to the witness tomorrow?" She said between bites, watching the other two fight over the last few chips like children, a faint smile on her face.

"I'll meet with him, then head back to the park to do some snooping." Bucky mumbled around the chips he had snuck off Clint's pile.

Clint stole some back, then added "It'd be good to look around, see if there are any cabins or lodges in the area that are big enough for this size pack."

"Sounds good. We can do that and meet Buck at the park after?"

They all nodded, happy with their roles, then Clint grinned slyly. Nat knew that nothing good came out of that smile, and glared in his direction, silently warning him to keep his mouth shut. He didn't, of course. "Anyone up for a game of poker? Preferably of the strip variety?"

The man next to him gave him a fake sultry look, answering in a husky voice "I didn't know you felt that way Clint, you could have just said so" before beginning to unbutton his shirt. Panic in his eyes, Clint slid his chair back, as Nat struggled to hold her laughter in.

"Never mind… Uhh… is that a dog?" He fled out the door, and Natasha barely managed to keep a straight face, howling with laughter as the door clicked closed. As soon as she let loose, Bucky dropped the act, a grin spreading over his usually sombre face.

"Sorry Nat, couldn't resist."

"You always did like stirring the shit James, but that beats everything else so far." She managed to calm herself after a moment, but her eyes still danced with amusement. "I'd better go make sure he isn't throwing up somewhere, bringing a bad name to us 'feds'." She slid her chair back, and slipped out the door, pretty sure she'd find Clint fairly close, unless he was actually throwing up somewhere. She found him across the way, crouched in front of a dog, mumbling under his breath as he stroked the mutt. She sighed, and headed over.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky lay on the ground, head pounding, vision blurred. The witness. Of course it had been the fucking witness. "You're fast, I'll give you that, but running is no use, Agent Greyson. We had a pretty good thing runnin' here, until the kids got sloppy. Then you feds had to turn up. Had to get creative then." The man prowled closer, head cocked slightly in a way that was not human, eyes gleaming with a faint tinge of yellow. "So here we are. I kill you, send the others running, and we can leave. No harm, no foul. Well, apart from you of course."

The bastard was moving closer, nattering his head off like they always did. Making it dramatic and all that. Bucky didn't move, acting the shocked and dazed victim. Luckily, the werewolf was too busy feeding his own ego to notice his left hand closing over the silver knife at the small of his back. This was going to be easy, too easy. "There are more of … whatever you are?" He stammered, holding his right hand up as though holding the monster off.

"Ohh yeah, four new turns, plus the three I got to a few years back."

"What are you, monster?!" The witness laughed, a harsh bark in the silent woods.

"Haven't you worked it out yet, Agent? I'm a werewolf" he dragged the word out, enunciating each syllable as though he thought Bucky was stupid. Or deaf.

"Werewolves are movie villains, made up to scare children."

"No, we are quite real. Sorry you had to find out this way."

There was a faint rustle in the trees, a quiet twang of a bowstring in the distance. The beast in front of him didn't notice, still caught up in his little show. Bucky's left hand tightened as he waited for the man to get closer, just a _little_ closer would do it. The silver would burn, but if he missed the heart first try, well, he was going to have a fight on his hands, silver or no. He opened his mouth, but threw himself backwards as something came hurtling out of the trees, smashing right into the werewolf's head. _A … Shield? What in the …?_ Rolling backwards, he drew his knife, just in time as one of the younger weres came bursting out of the trees, hell-bent on gutting him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a man dropping out of the trees, catching the shield, and holding a short sword in the other hand, gleaming in the moonlight. He didn't see anything else, barely getting out of the way as a clawed hand went for his throat.

 

* * *

The silence, as the final sentry fell to Clint's silver-tipped arrows, was absolute. Good, the plan was working out so far. Nat jumped lightly to the next branch, making her way to where Clint was crouched in a neighbouring tree. _Nothing from Bucky yet_ she signed, not risking speech with the werewolves' hearing ability. He nodded, and then gestured towards the small clearing where they had left their partner, the self-appointed bait for this mission. Together they moved through the trees, having mapped out the area beforehand, knowing exactly where each branch was. It was a fair way, about a mile. With the speed the werewolves could move at, it was actually a pretty small roaming distance from their lair. Which meant the leader had taken the bait, was keeping the followers close to home as he 'took care of' the 'snooping agent'. Nat grinned into the night, knowing the bastard was going to get what was coming to him. AS they got closer, they listened out for the signal, Bucky letting them know it was time to strike. Instead, they heard … shouting? Bucky … shouting? Pushing themselves even faster, they dropped to the ground for the last few hundred metres, bursting out into the clearing, weapons at the ready, to a view they didn't expect. Bodies lying scattered around the clearing, in various stages of transformation, and Bucky, standing in the middle, shirt torn, metal arm gleaming, covered in blood, verbally ripping into a taller man that they had never seen before. _What in the world?_

 

* * *

"I was _this_ close to taking him out without a fight! Then you come along, let all of the damn pups know _exactly_ where we are, and take my kill out from under my nose! What the hell were you thinking! You nearly got yourself _killed_! Stupid man, I'm going to fucking gut you myself!" Steve had absolutely no idea who the man in front of him was. A man spitting fire, with fury burning in his eyes. He was obviously a hunter, having taken out more than his share of the werewolves with deadly efficiency, and not so much as a grimace. In fact, he had looked cold, as though cutting down werewolves was something he did every day, and he had no mercy to offer them. He didn't move, the one-armed hunter getting right up in his face, baring his teeth as though he was what they had just killed. Okay, he was pretty sure no one else had been on this case, no mention of any others when he had talked to the police, or visited the morgue. He had been completely surprised when the victim-to-be had pulled out a knife and gone to town on the newcomers, and even more surprised when he had moved like a violent whirlwind, taking down anything in his path. It had really been something to wa- No, stop. He shouldn't be thinking about that when that violence was aimed in his direction. He opened his mouth, about to try to explain, when a woman's voice cut across the field.

"James, _stand down_! If you stab another hunter we'll never hear the end of it!" 

Bucky turned, growling at Nat as she came marching across the field, Clint jogging slightly to keep up with her. "He nearly got us both killed!" 

"But you handled it, Buck. Now put the damn knife down." 

He glanced at his hands, only just realising that his left hand was still fisted around the hilt of his knife, and he had likely been waving it in the other hunter's face. He let out a disgusted snort. Served him right. Prancing in like a white knight, to save the damsel in distress, what a joke. He wiped the blood off his blade, then slid it back into its sheath at his back, flicking his leather jacket back down over it, hiding it from view. Turning, he glared at the blond hunter, then stormed away, heading towards the bodies to start piling them up to burn. 

"Hi, I'm Natasha, this is Clint, and that is James, though he goes by Bucky. Sorry about that. We didn't realise there was someone else on this case." She stopped in front of the man, who still looked somewhat shell-shocked, and more than a tad confused. 

"Um, Steve. And it's not his fault. I jumped to conclusions. Should have waited it out." There was a snort at his phrasing, coming from the still-fuming man dragging one of the bodies towards the growing pile. He glanced over, then back down at the pair in front of him. The woman, Natasha, was short, but looked like she could take on a mountain and win. Clint looked all-too-comfortable with the bow strapped to his back. Natasha had a glint of scheming in her eyes. That wasn't good. He kicked himself into motion, sheathing the short sword that had been the only silver weapon in his cache. "Burning the bodies, I assume?" When he got a nod, from both of them in unison which was a little bit creepy, he headed to the closest body, dragging it to the pile in the centre of the field. 

Nat looked at Clint. He looked at her. They grinned at each other. Both had seen the look in Steve's eyes when he had looked at Bucky. Admiration, confusion, fear, and what had looked like the hint of "falling head over heels for this guy". Good. They turned in unison, looked at the other two, who were pointedly avoiding each other, and looking at Clint and Nat. "Let the fun begin" Nat muttered under her breath. Clint gave a quiet laugh. 

"Oh god. They don't have a chance." 


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you mean we have to work with him?"

"Exactly that, James. You two finished that werewolf fight faster than any solo hunter could."

"Yeah there wouldn't have been a fight if he hadn't come along and messed everything up!"

"I don't want to have to do this, James, but if you make me I will."

"Do what, Fury? What is there left to do? You ruined my career, got my friends killed, and now you want me to work with that guy? What makes you think I'll take any advice you give me?" Nick Fury stood abruptly, his chair falling backwards with the force of the movement. He leaned forward, his one eye narrowing, and planted his hands on the desk between them.

"Listen here, sergeant. I don't care what you think of me. When you're in the army, _people die_. They knew the risks, just as you did. If you think for _one second_ that I wanted you out huntin' monsters and lying to the world, you don't know nothin' about me. Now I don't want to pull rank on you, but you're forcing my hand. Get out there, and work with Captain Rogers, or I'm going to lock you in the bunker until you reconsider. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." The response was growled, and followed by a swift departure from the former serviceman, who didn't slam the door so much as close it firmly. Nick sighed deeply, seating himself again after righting his chair. The man was headstrong, intelligent, and hated his guts some days. But Nick had gotten him into this life, he'd be damned if he wasn't going to let him die without a fight. Steve would be good for him, in the same way Natasha was good for Clint - serious enough to make sure work got done, and protective enough to stop their partner from doing something irrationally stupid, like making demon deals and going back on them. Bloody Winchesters, always getting into trouble, starting shit they couldn't finish. Nick sighed, pushing those two out of his mind. They weren't his problem, and he was glad for that. But the shitstorm they kicked up? Well, that was everyone's problem, hunter or not.

"Rogers, you can come in now." He hoped the Captain would be a bit more rational about this team-up.

 

* * *

"He's decreed that we three are now four" Bucky growled, slamming into the hotel room they had rented out. "Bloody bastard, thinks he's running the show, thinks we're still in the fucking army where he can do whatever the fuck he pleases and no one can argue or even look at him wrong. I'll fucking shoot him myself if he doesn't be careful." Nat got up, tried to console him, calm him down, but he pulled away, grabbing his bag and heading for the bathroom to change. A minute later he came out in his running gear, grumbled "Back later, don't wait up" and left, only thing on him a knife at his back and the key to get in. And he ran, out of the motel, up the street, out into the countryside, thoughts pounding to the rhythm of his feet on the tarmac.

He hadn't been very old when he had enlisted, barely legal, and had ended up under Fury's command out of sheer luck, and a little bit of perseverance. Fury had scouted the newbies, looking for qualities and talents he wanted in his team, and James' unerring accuracy and tooth-and-nail fighting style had caught his eye. He had been promoted, retrained and stuck on a new team with the men who had eventually become his brothers, and had eventually died around him, prey to the Wendigo that had been his first hunt. A hunt that had been set up by Fury, a hunt that had been his team's mission all along. As soon as he could, he left, getting out of the army, getting as far away from his former commanding officer as he could. But he hadn't been able to escape, oh no. Every so often he would get a call from the bastard - There's a hunt here, or a mysterious killing there - and he would always end up going, always end up the puppet of the man who wouldn't leave him be. Eventually he had stopped running from that, eventually he had teamed up with Natasha and Clint, eventually he could take orders from the man who ran a network of hunters all around the country. But he still didn't like it. Growling under his breath, he pushed himself harder, faster, mentally daring something to take him on as he ran down the side of the quiet road.

 

* * *

"I assume you've heard that we're now supposed to be working together?" Steve said with an apologetic look to the two hunters in front of him.

"Yeah, we heard. We don't have a problem with it, as long as you don't have a problem with us."

"Or a cat" Clint added, only to get punched in the shoulder by Nat. Steve smiled, the first genuine smile he had had in a while.

"I'm a dog person too, don't worry about that."

"He's in, Nat."

"Um, about your friend, how badly is he taking this? There was a lot of yelling in Fury's study."

Nat smiled at his genuine look of concern. "Don't worry about that, it's not you he's mad about. Well, other than that stunt you pulled with the werewolves. And before you say it, we know you didn't realise he was a hunter. You did the right thing considering the information you had. Now do you have a room or are you bunking with us?"

"I have a room, and a car. And a case, thanks to Fury."

"Okay, cool, we'll get started in the morning, when Bucky is back."

"Sounds like a plan. See you in the morning guys."

 

Steve left quickly, heading to his pickup, and driving to the only other hotel in the small town, where his room was. He hoped she was right about James, hard to trust someone who wanted you gone, and had the skillset to make it happen. The guy had been a ghost story in the squad, a ruthless killer codenamed the Winter Soldier. Story had been that the guy had lost his arm, and everyone else in his unit, to a Wendigo up north. Guy had made it to the extraction point after burning the creature, in the falling snow, his shirt wrapped around his left arm, dog tags frozen to his skin, and the fires of hell burning in his eyes. No one had messed with him after that, new recruit or not. He had more than enough power to take Steve out if he didn't want him there. He sighed, deciding to take Natasha on her word, and wait and see.

 

* * *

He kept running, even though his eyes were blurring, and the world was shifting, he kept going, pushing himself until his body couldn't take any more. He crumpled, breath wheezing, only just managing to catch himself on his prosthetic arm. He knelt there, panting, shaking, vision blurry, in the dark until he heard something approach. He looked up. It was a car, twin headlights glaring down the road he knelt beside. As it approached, it slowed down, stopped. The door opened, footsteps moving swiftly towards him. "Mister, are you okay?" The voice was concerned. A man, Bucky realised. Holding up a hand, he waved the guy away.

"Ye … yeah I'm good … I'm good." Was that his voice? Slurred, shaky.

"No you're not. What happened? Did something chase you? Were you hit?"

"No no no I just … ran … running … to far …"

"Okay, which way is home?" "I don't have … a home, not really?"

"Okay, where did you come from?"

"Do you have a phone?" His voice was getting stronger, steadier. Good. Not quite time to try the standing thing yet though.

"Yeah, hold on, I'll go get it."

The man jogged back to his car, and Bucky pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing the gravel off his legs. Bare legs. Legs that were bleeding a little, grazed from the fall. Damnit. He rubbed his face, and refocused on the man who was once again in front of him. "What's the number?"

"Uhh" He held out his hand for the phone. At least that wasn't bleeding. Hard for metal to bleed. The man wordlessly handed the phone over, and Bucky punched in the number to Nat's cell. "Hey, Nat"

_"James what happened, you've been gone for hours?"_

"I'm okay, really. Now tell the nice man where to go so I can have a nap"

 _"James what is-?"_ He didn't hear anything else as he handed the phone back.

"Hi, um, my name is Sam, I just found him on the side of the road … No he's okay, legs a little grazed, like he took a fall but otherwise okay … yeah looks like he ran himself into the ground … okay where do I take him? … Right, okay, be there soon." He hung up, tucked his phone in his pocket, and looked at Bucky. "Do you think you can stand yet?"

"Yeah … just give me a second…." He slowly pushed himself upwards, taking the strangers hand as he did, until he was standing. A little shaky, but it'd do.

"Right okay, my name's Sam, I'll give you a ride back into town. I don't think you'd make it alone, not that distance."

"James. How far?"

"You're nearly ten miles out of town. Shit man, you really went for it. Come on, James, let's get you to the car." It took a while, but he managed to get to the car, with help, and fell into the back seat. "You should probably sit up"

"If I sit up I'll pass out before we get five minutes down the road"

"Okay, stay down then. I'll go slow".

 

* * *

It took them a while, but they finally made it back to the small town, pulling into the hotel parking lot. Their door came flying open, and Nat and Clint came jogging out to meet them, Pulling him out of the car as soon as it had stopped. They all but carried him inside, putting him on his bed. "I can walk guys no what ugh fine whatever." He sat up as soon as they let him go, holding out his hand. Clint quickly filled it with a water bottle, which he gulped down the contents of as Nat thanked the guy who had found him. "Seriously, I'm okay now, just pass me a washcloth would you?" He got the cloth, and wiped down his legs. The shallow grazes had already stopped bleeding, and he took his time making sure there was no dirt still in there. When he was happy, he looked up at Sam. "Thank you for the ride. I owe you a drink, at the very least."  
"Nah brother, it's all good, you'd have done the same for me. Now, I'd better go, wife's expecting me home. Look after yourself, James." With a wave, he left, and Nat closed the door behind him, silent. There was a storm coming, he could see it. She didn't hesitate.

"Seriously, James? Running yourself into the ground? Anything could have happened to you! We're hunters, we can't leave ourselves exposed like that!"

"I had my knife Nat"

"And evidently you didn't pull it on that man, so who's to say you could have pulled it on something that was actually trying to hurt you? Go have a shower." She left the room, slamming the door behind her.

"You worried her man, she thought it was Budapest all over again." Clint shook his head slowly, then gave him a hand up. "You're going to have to work to get on her good side again mate."

"I know, I didn't mean to take it this far, I just …"

"Yeah, I know mate. Go take a shower, I'll talk to her." He left, following Natasha out the door, and James stood there for a moment, before heading for the bathroom. Shower sounded like a good idea. Hopefully he'd feel better afterwards.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint sat on the edge of his bed, and reached over to Bucky, prodding his arm with a finger. "Oi, you going to get up?" The response was a groan, a mumble, and the arm being pulled out of his reach. He just lent further forward and poked his friend's back. "James get up." The groan again, and more incoherent mumbling. He grinned at Nat, who tossed him a water bottle. Standing up, and keeping himself as far away from the other man as possible, he unscrewed the top and dumped the cold contents onto Bucky. That had the desired result. He jumped back, tripping over his shoelaces and sprawling on his own bed, laughing, as Bucky shot upright, swearing, arms flailing. Nat was laughing too, and Bucky glared at the both of them, pushing his now-wet hair off his face, before throwing the sheets off and storming into the bathroom, waves of annoyance coming off him. As soon as he was gone, they laughed even harder, only calming as they heard a knock at the door.

Wiping the tears off her face, Natasha got up to check, as Clint slid his hand under his pillow, grasping the gun there. She checked the peephole, then waved him down, opening it to reveal the other hunter, Steve. He entered, noting exactly where Clint's hand was, and made a noise of appreciation as he placed his laptop on the small table. He withdrew his hand, tucking the gun in the back of his pants, and wandered over, pulling out one of the seats and perching on it. "Morning. Do you have coff-" He cut off as Nat placed a mug in front of him, which he immediately picked up and took a mouthful of, despite its heat. After all these years, she knew him too well. He liked that.

Nat spoke up instead. "So, what's this case you have?" Steve nodded, glanced around.

"Where's…?"

Nat filled in again. "Shower, he woke up late. He'll catch up." Steve nodded, his eyes briefly focusing on the massive wet spot at the head of one bed, and the empty water bottle sitting on the bed next to it, before looking back at the hunters in front of him.

"Don't ask" Clint mumbled around the lip of his mug. "He'll kill me in my sleep if I tell."

"Damn right" James emerged from the bathroom, pulling on his t-shirt as he did. "That was not cool Clint, not cool at all."

Nat hid her mouth, mumbled into her hand "I think it was plenty _cool_."

Clint sniggered, James glared, and Steve just looked mildly confused. James shook his head, and sat on the edge of the bed closest to the others, towelling off his hair.

"Can we get on with this?"

Clint nodded, and looked back at Steve. "You were saying…?"

"Right, Fury pointed me in the direction of a small town in Kansas. Lawrence. First it was cattle mutilation, then moved on to people. Classic demon signs, but other things have been attributed to this before - vampires, werewolves, witches, to name a few. It's only a few hours' drive from here, which is probably why Fury gave it to us. Could be more than one thing there though, it's been a hotspot for that kind of thing since the Winchesters got into the business." He placed printouts of the news articles on the table.

"Right, so if we leave now we'll be able to set up a hotel room and talk to the cops who are handling it." Clint finished his coffee and stood, cleaning it in the small sink before setting it to drain. "Who's going with who?"

Nat immediately piped up "I'm driving Cherry! Hah, faster than you two!" Grabbing the keys off the table, she grabbed her bag, already packed, and ran out the door, avoiding Clint's lunge for the keys.

"Damnit, she always does that. I'm not letting her drive without being there, so looks like you're with the Captain, Buck." Clint grinned, grabbed his stuff, and left before any protest could be issued.

James grimaced, realising they had left him with checking out and paying. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be good to go" he said to Steve, cramming his laptop in his bag.

 

* * *

It was less than ten minutes before he returned, having handed the room key over, with a paper cup of coffee held in his left hand. Clint had polished their mug off before he had had a chance at it, so this would have to do. He glanced around to find Steve leaning against a the front of a large pickup.

"What happened to the motorbike?" Captain Rogers had been known for his preference for two wheels over four.

"Hard to carry an armoury on the back of a bike." Shrugging, but making a noise of agreement, he dumped his bag in the back, and climbed into the passenger seat, slumping in it and pulling his jacket over his head.

"Wake me up in an hour." He promptly fell asleep, but not before hearing the annoyed noise of the driver.

* * *

 

An hour later, like clockwork, Steve woke up his passenger with a nudge on his shoulder, and a tug at the jacket over his head. "We're coming up on a townlet, want anything to eat?"

"Uhh, sure." The voice was groggy, and didn't match the alert look of the man it came from. Typical army response, body awake and alert, waiting for the mind to catch up. He didn't mention it, but the dangerous man beside him didn't look out of his teens, shoulder-length hair a mess, the shadow of hair on his jaw, and the clichéd 'hunter's layers' clothing combination. Jeez, the man was actually a year older than him, would you believe it?

"Any preference for what food?"

"Not really. Greasy preferably. Otherwise, whatever."

Steve nodded, pulling in to the first diner he saw that was open, one that advertised 'All Day Breakfast' in neon in the window. He got out, and was about to lock up when the other man waved at him to hold the action, quickly opening the back and rummaging in his bag. When he was done, Steve locked up and went around the car to see his companion tugging leather gloves on, hiding the metallic glint that had already attracted a couple of curious glances. That must get fairly annoying, especially on hot days - the gloves attracted as much attention as one glove, or none, did on days like this, not a cloud in the sky. On the other hand, it said 'douche' rather than 'cripple'. He followed Bucky into the restaurant, and didn't mention it. Looks like this trip was going to be a lot of not mentioning things. He sighed.

After they ordered, Bucky leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, looking at the man across from him. "Do you have any idea why Fury wants this teamup?" Steve shrugged.

"You know as much as I do about him."

Bucky rubbed his jaw, annoyed at Fury's meddling, but not as annoyed about the actual assignment anymore. He was actually starting to like the other man, despite the stunt he had pulled on the werewolf hunt. He had heard a lot about him, being in the same squad, but Bucky being a solo hunter, while Steve lead a team. _Captain Rogers Leads Team to Victory_ , or _Nest Burned, the Captain Does It Again!_ The man was an efficient hunter, and unlike some, his primary objective was to save people, with the monster hunting coming in second. Add that to the knowledge and experience, and he was formidable, almost as respected in the hunting world as the Winchesters. Plus the man was damned attr- no he wasn't going to go there. "Which means shit all, no one knows Fury. So he's plotting something, and we're the pawns. _Damnit_ , this was the reason I got out in the first place." His hand clenched, and there was a crack, as the metal table-number stand he had been playing with crumpled under the pressure. Damn it. He dropped it on the table again, putting his head in his hands with a sigh. When the waitress came over with the coffee, he handed the twisted stand and a couple of twenties to her with an apology, but didn't explain despite her curious look. He looked over, caught the mild amusement on Steve's face as he tried to hide it, and waved a hand. "Might as well get it out of the way, god knows the other two never hesitate to take the piss whenever they get a chance."

Steve shook his head, gave a cough that sounded like a strangled laugh, and took a deep breath, composure returning. "Is that something that happens often?"

"More often than I'd like. You think I'd be used to it by now - turns out I'm too used to it, and forget it's there sometimes. Go from pulling doors off cars to crushing salt shakers or something." He gave a faint laugh at his own expense. God, he must look like an absolute idiot. He was glad when the food arrived not long after, the silence going from uneasy to necessary as they both ate.


	5. Chapter 5

When Steve and Bucky finally arrived at the motel they had decided on partway through the trip, Clint’s car was already parked up in front of one of the bigger rooms. The trip had been fairly long, and Steve was napping in the passenger seat as Bucky drove, having swapped places a few hours before. As he slowed down, and pulled into the park next to the challenger, the big man in the seat next to him stirred, looking dishevelled and ready to fall into bed and sleep for a week. “Are w-“ He yawned, cutting himself off, his jaw cracking audibly as he did, “we here?” Bucky made an agreeing noise, and switched the truck off.

“We are, so it’s time to move sleepyhead.”

His companion gave a sleepy half-laugh, and all but fell out of the truck as he opened the door, landing on his feet, but only just, before stretching. Bucky climbed out more sedately, and recalibrated his arm with a quick, sharp shrug of his shoulder, and then opened the back door on his side, fishing out his bag. Though he had initially resented his friends for forcing him to make the trip with the new member of their group, that had quickly disappeared. They had spent the better part of the trip talking about anything and everything, from what song was on the radio, to their shared experiences in the army, and working with Fury. He was actually starting to like the blond, and was almost sad to see the trip ended. He had decided that he’d give the Captain another shot, and see if they _could_ actually work together.

Bucky headed for their room, rapping lightly on the door with his knuckles before opening it, not doubting that it would be open for them. Entering, he smiled at Natasha, who was sitting on one of the chairs at the table, one leg tucked up, her arms around her knees, looking slightly guilty, and more than a little rumpled. He glanced around the room to spot Clint at the small kitchenette, back to the door, preparing coffee. His head was lowered suspiciously. James looked at Nat again and raised his eyebrows. She pulled a face at him, and snapped “Put those back down mister”. She wasn’t really annoyed at him though. He shook his head and dumped his bag on one of the unclaimed beds as Steve shut the door behind them. He didn’t say anything about what he assumed had happened.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“An hour or so” Clint piped up from the bench as he pulled four mugs down. 

“Yeah, what took you?” Natasha said. She looked at the two of them, speculation filling her eyes. Bucky quickly cut off that line of conversation.

“We stopped for food, because you guys took the last of it with you. Now can we get started?”

 

* * *

Nat was flung back, hitting the wall with enough force to wind her. She was pretty sure she had cracked a rib or two as well. Grunting, she climbed to her feet, spotting Bucky hanging from his throat as the damned thing pinned him there with his powers. Steve stood strong, shield up, voice unwavering as he recited the classic exorcism that was their only shot at getting rid of the demon. He had painted a sigil on the back of his shield in the blood leaking from his side, a sigil that seemed to be deflecting the majority of thee demon’s attempts to silence him. There was a hum, and an arrow was suddenly sticking out of the demon’s leg. Bucky suddenly dropped to the ground, coughing, and she ran over to him, helping him upright. Clint jumped down from the rafters, latching onto the arrow and yanking it out just as the last words of the exorcism rang out. The fading words were drowned out by a howl as the demon was forced out of its vessel, and was pulled downwards, back to the Hell it had come from.

Clint tossed the arrow, which had had a devils trap engraved on the tip, to the side, and went to the vessel, who was waking up, and beginning to panic. Steve immediately went to Bucky and Nat, helping them both to their feet and checking them for injuries. Bucky batted his hands away as soon as he was upright, and pulled his shirt over his head, wadding it up and pushing it against Steve’s side with a scratchy “Hold it”. Steve did automatically, and spoke quietly to Nat. She frowned, gasped out a few words about a possible cracked rib, and waved off any more concern.

“You can tape me up when we get back to the motel, we gotta clean this shit up first.”

 

It took them nearly an hour to clean the basement of any signs of the fight. Clint had taken the vessel to the hospital, as the only one with no more than bruising. Steve had more than once lost track of his words, watching Bucky work, and he told himself it wasn’t anything more than concern, with a bit of curiosity thrown in. It was the first time he had seen the metal arm in its entirety, and he was shocked at the rawness of the join between metal and man. It definitely wasn’t anything more than that, despite the eyebrow waggle Nat sent in his direction when she caught him looking _again_. The woman was in good humour considering the events, and the fact that she couldn’t take a deep breath yet, pointing at the cracked ribs she had suspected initially. He shook his head and went back to stacking boxes on shelves, before stepping back and dusting his hands on his jeans. 

“I think we’re done.”

Bucky nodded, and Natasha sighed in relief. As they headed up and out through the quiet house, Nat checked her phone, before telling them that Clint had just gotten back to their room. They piled into Steve’s truck, Bucky at the wheel, and pulled away from the secluded farmhouse that had been home to the demon for almost a month. As they drove, Nat spoke up, reciting her injuries matter-of-factly, followed by Bucky. When Steve didn’t say anything, Nat nudged his seat with her foot, giving him an expectant look when he turned to look at her. “Easier to spit it out now than try to hide it until it affects the next hunt. Spill, Steve.” He did then, impressed at the efficiency of the team he had joined. By the time they pulled into the motel carpark, they had a cover story to tell the police, and a contingency plan in case something else went wrong.

They got inside the room with no strange looks, to find Clint had already set out first aid supplies, and had changed into fresh clothes. Bucky directed Nat to him, then all but shoved Steve into a chair, kneeling in front of him to check the cut on his side. “Jesus, what did he get you with, a damned stake?” He was talking to himself, Steve realised, and didn’t speak up, merely holding his shirt up so the other man could clean the cut. “Needs stitches Cap. Do you mind me doing it, or do you want to head to-“

“Go for it, just don’t poke too many more holes than necessary” Steve cut him off, stretching out so that the skin was taut around the cut on his ribs. The first touch of the needle made him flinch slightly, but then he was completely still, letting the other man work in peace. When it was done, and a bandage set over it, he let his shirt fall back down, and looked at Bucky. “Thanks. I’ll buy you a new shirt too.” He stood firm in that as James tried to convince him it wasn’t necessary, going so far as to change the subject on the man mid-sentence, speaking to all three of them. “I’ve heard whispers about a weapon that can kill almost anything, and it’s not a one-off like the colt, or the knife those Winchester boys have.” That got their attention. All three had stopped what they were doing and were looking at him expectantly. “I think we should try to track down an Angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments, questions, prompts etc. are always welcome, both here and at my [tumblr.](http://brickhousebuck.tumblr.com)


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